


Draco's Escort Service

by dysonrules



Series: Escort Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-15
Updated: 2010-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysonrules/pseuds/dysonrules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy's job is to escort travelers through territory made perilous after the war. Harry Potter is forced to hire him, but his destination isn't quite what Draco had in mind. This has nothing to do with Vegas style escorts or rentboys!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Эскорт-услуги Драко](https://archiveofourown.org/works/743191) by [MonStra4ka (MonStra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonStra/pseuds/MonStra4ka)



> This was utterly horrific and needed severe editing, so I cleaned it up in March of 2014. Please to be destroying previous versions. :)

**Chapter One**

Harry was livid.

"No! Absolutely not!" he yelled. "There has to be someone else!"

"He's the best," Remus insisted. "And he checks out."

" _Draco Malfoy_ checks out? By whose standards? The bastard has done more to make my life a living hell than anyone other than Voldemort!"

"He was a child, Harry. He regrets his actions and has redeemed himself time and again. For God's sake, Harry, he lost everything to Voldemort!"

"SO DID I!" Harry bellowed. "At least Malfoy got to grow up with parents! He had a fucking decent childhood!"

"Don't you think that would make his loss even harder to bear?" Remus yelled back.

"I DON'T CARE!"

Remus threw up his hands.

Harry glared. "I'll go alone," he decided adamantly.

"You can't." Remus' words were like a slap in the face, though true.

"Watch me," Harry gritted.

"I can't talk to you when you get like this," Remus snapped. "Call me when you retrieve your maturity."

Remus stalked out. Harry made a rude gesture behind his back and then sank down into a chair. He propped his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands in frustration. After a moment, he got up and took the stairs to his room.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place had changed markedly in the four years since Harry had inherited it. After a year of cleaning, polishing, and stripping the place nearly bare, it hardly resembled the former dark, gloomy residence of generations of Blacks. One day in a fit of overwhelming rage Harry had taken a sledge hammer to the wall that held Mrs Black's portrait. He had pulverized wall, frame, and painting, hammering away long after the shrieks of Sirius's mum were silenced forever. Remus and the Weasley twins had found him sitting in the rubble, exhausted but satisfied.

He had left the wall open and later removed the one separating the kitchen and dining room. When time allowed, he removed as much of the dark wood in the house as possible, replacing it with pale oak or painting over it in white. He knew Sirius would have approved.

The master bedroom had been completely redone—floors, walls, curtains, furniture and bedding. The room gleamed with pale neutral colors and creamy bedding accented with Gryffindor burgundy and gold. Harry threw himself on the bed. He glared at the ceiling as he thought of Draco Malfoy. The only person he had ever hated more was Severus Snape. Even Voldemort had come in a pale third to those two. Things had changed so much in the wizarding world since Dumbledore's death three years prior.

The war had begun shortly thereafter. They already referred to it as The Great Wizarding War, although there had been nothing great about it except the scale of destruction.

Lord Voldemort's motives had not been clear. He'd seemed content to wreak carnage and destroy everything he could find. Werewolves and trolls had multiplied like rabbits. There were so many werewolf attacks that the Muggles branded it some sort of disease epidemic. Death Eaters had killed every Ministry member they could locate. Those that were left had fought a losing battle trying to contain the werewolves and keep Muggles in the dark about the wizarding world.

Harry had concentrated on finding and destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes, leaving a handful of demoralized Order members to try and stop the Death Eaters. None of them had understood why the Chosen One had deserted them in their time of need—none but Remus, to whom Harry had finally confided.

Excited by victory after victory, Voldemort had become giddy with power. He'd recruited new Death Eaters to the cause and somehow they had discovered a way to control the Floo Network. Travel by fireplace had halted nearly overnight when one chance in four would send the traveler to a fireplace in Timbuktu, or Siberia, or to a cave in Peru.

Voldemort had set his sights on Apparition, next. It had taken a year, but he'd finally managed to contaminate the very forces of nature—not just those used to Apparate, but nearly every magical factor in existence. Pockets of dark magic hovered over many areas, especially those with a large number of wizards. It had become dangerous to cast spells in those regions—the effects would be nullified, magnified, or twisted. Wizards had been blown to pieces, sent hundreds of miles from their intended destination, or Splinched into objects.

As transportation had become increasingly impossible, the Ministry had fought for control by trying to regulate the creation of Portkeys—the only remaining method of instant transportation. Rufus Scrimgeour and the remaining Ministers had cast a nullifying spell around all of London to prevent entry or exit by Portkey. They had done the same to every common destination in Britain, under the guise of keeping Voldemort from tampering with Portkey transportation. It had worked. Voldemort had seen no need to disrupt Portkeys once the Ministry had made them nigh unto useless.

Much diminished, the Order and all others opposed to Voldemort had fought a pitched battle near Hogwarts, which Voldemort had been determined to destroy. After throwing giants, trolls, and magic at it, he had managed to breach the walls and invade the castle.

Harry and his friends had arrived at last and the battle had ranged far through the empty halls. The school had closed to students—after the derailment of the Hogwarts Express had killed five students prior to Harry's seventh year—it had been the act that had officially begun the war.

Harry and Voldemort had confronted one another, but Harry had left childhood behind. He had learned much during his search and destruction of Horcruxes. He'd thrown every spell in his arsenal at the evil incarnation of Tom Riddle, and he hadn't been alone. Ron and Hermione had been beside him, tossing everything they had. They'd been joined by others—Neville, Luna, Dean, Angelina, and most of the other surviving members of Dumbledore's Army. During the battle, Ginny Weasley had thrown herself in front of a killing bolt meant for Harry. Holding her broken body, he'd gone completely mad.

By unknown means, Harry had absorbed the magical energy from everyone and everything around him before blasting Voldemort into pieces so small he'd resembled powder. Harry's last conscious recollection had been of Voldemort's laugh. They had always assumed Voldemort had created seven Horcruxes, seven that Harry had known were destroyed. They had been wrong.

The strange and lingering effect of Harry's spell had left him drained. He could barely produce a simple Light Spell. They had all believed the effect would be temporary. After six months, they'd stopped relying on it.

With Voldemort returned to vapor form and the Death Eaters either dead or imprisoned after the battle at Hogwarts, everyone had tried to go back to their lives. It hadn't been that simple, however. The dark magic had lurked and it began to grow. Apparition was beyond risky. The Floo Network was abandoned. Horrible creatures multiplied and spilled out from the forests and swamps.

The school had reopened, but the Hogwarts Express ran only twice per year, closely guarded by an army of Aurors. The Ministry had stayed locked away in London, safe and isolated.

Harry, practically a Squib, had continued his obsessive search for the missing Horcrux, praying that there was only one. His friends had humored him for a long time, but eventually they'd deserted him to live their own lives. Ron and Hermione had married and moved to Ottery St. Catchpole near the Burrow, now the home of Bill and Fleur and their brood, after the deaths of Arthur and Molly in the war.

Remus Lupin and Tonks, also married, had moved in with Harry. _To keep him from getting lonely_ , they'd said, but he'd known it was to keep an eye on him. To keep him safe.

ooOoo

Harry shook off grim thoughts of the past. He finally had a lead on the last Horcrux, but he didn't dare tell anyone—they would all forbid him to go. Instead, he had told Remus he wanted to return Gryffindor's sword to Hogwarts, which had sparked enough controversy on its own. Remus had insisted he wait until school began so that Harry could take the train. Harry had fought bitterly until Remus had agreed he could go by broom, but only with an escort. And now this.

Draco Malfoy had survived the war. His parents and his house hadn't been so lucky. Malfoy Manor had been seized by the Ministry, who had summarily burned it to the ground. Snape had killed Lucius, for reasons unknown, and had accidentally murdered Narcissa when she'd gone wild with grief. Neville Longbottom had killed Snape during the final battle.

Draco had turned on the Death Eaters in the end. He had single-handedly brought in Mulciber, Avery, Nott, and McNair. He had killed Bellatrix Lestrange, who'd gone even crazier than usual after Voldemort's apparent destruction. After the war ended, Malfoy had started an escort service—guiding those who traveled by broom through dangerous areas, bypassing pockets of dark magic and eliminating threats. Several others had started similar lucrative ventures, but apparently none of them were satisfactory enough for Remus.

Still, even being stuck with that pompous, arrogant jerk was better than being stuck in London one more day. Harry pounded his fists on the bed a few more times and then went to find Remus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

So it was that Harry was stood on a largely barren road on the outskirts of London with a broom in his hand and a large sword strapped to his back. He also wore a backpack and a long, black cloak.

It was dusk, and cloudy, so it wasn't long before a broom dropped out of the sky and disclosed Draco Malfoy. He hopped off his broom, light as a feather, and the two old enemies observed each other through narrowed eyes.

Malfoy looked different than when he was younger. He seemed taller, leaner, and more muscular. His platinum hair was longer, brushing his shoulders and draping over his forehead to nearly conceal his grey eyes. His face was as coldly beautiful as ever. He wore an outfit obviously inspired by Quidditch. Black breeches with leather trim were tucked into high black boots. His emerald green shirt had leather patches at the elbows and over that was slung a hooded cape, though the hood was thrown back at the moment. His hands—encased in black leather gloves—gripped his broom.

"Potter," he said finally without inflection.

"Malfoy," Harry said in the same tone.

"Going to Hogwarts, then?"

"Not exactly."

Malfoy cocked a brow at him, but said nothing.

"I need to go to Norwich. Or near there, anyway."

"Dangerous region, that," Malfoy said carefully.

"I'll pay you double whatever you and Remus agreed on."

"Triple."

Harry scowled, knowing Malfoy did not need the money. He was simply being a typical ass. "Fine," he snapped.

Malfoy shrugged and stepped over his broom. Harry kicked off on his own and for a fleeting moment felt the old indescribable joy of flying. Thank God that ability hadn't deserted him.

They headed towards the northeast and it almost immediately turned into a race. Soon they were hurtling side by side over treetops and hills, bushes and ponds. Harry could not seem to maintain a lead and they passed each other several times, until Malfoy motioned to him and halted in midair.

"It can get a bit dicey ahead. Stay low."

Malfoy sped off again after delivering the cryptic warning. Harry hurried after him and they both maintained a height of no more than two meters from the ground. The ride was uneventful for the greater part of an hour, thus Harry was unprepared when his broom was suddenly yanked out from under him. Harry went flying—sans broom—and landed hard in a patch of heather.

He lay still for a moment, trying to regain his breath. Malfoy's face appeared above him, not looking particularly concerned. "Alive, Potter?"

Harry glared, but got to his feet. "You might have mentioned 'dicey' meant the broom was likely to be torn from my hands." He stalked back to get his broom, face flaming with the realization that he couldn't simply Accio it back into his hand.

Malfoy hovered. "It doesn't. Sometimes it shoots you straight up. Or sends you into a spin. Or flips you upside down. Sometimes nothing. It's unpredictable."

Harry was somewhat surprised at the rational response. He had expected catcalls and hilarity. He mounted and they started off again.

The next time, Harry was prepared. The broom suddenly bolted sideways three meters, but Harry barely shifted position. He glanced ahead at Malfoy, who was fighting his own battle. His broom made three full forwards flips, looking like a fan blade for a moment. Malfoy miraculously stayed on and brought it under control. He could really fly, Harry had to admit. Malfoy looked back over his shoulder at him, nodded curtly, and proceeded. When they reached an unknown landmark, Malfoy shot higher into the air without a word. Harry assumed the danger was past and joined him.

They flew until the darkness was complete and it was difficult to see even large landmarks. Malfoy drew back to fly next to Harry and made a chopping motion. Harry followed him to the ground.

"The moon won't rise for a while. Once it does, we should have enough light to see by, if you want to go on. Have you eaten?"

The question was cursory. Harry knew Malfoy didn't care, but he seemed determined to treat Harry like a normal client.

"I'm fine," Harry said, looking around. They were in a hollow through which a small stream flowed. Harry knelt near the bank and washed his hands. He stood and glanced at Malfoy while drying them on his cloak. Malfoy had removed his cloak and pack and was stretching the kinks from his shoulders.

Harry followed his lead and yanked off his own cloak. He slung his pack on the ground and unbuckled Gryffindor's sword. Malfoy turned at the thunk it made hitting the ground. Harry suppressed a sigh of relief. The bloody thing was _heavy_. He sat cross-legged on the ground and let his head sink to his chest, pulling and releasing his neck muscles with one hand. He was glad they had stopped.

ooOoo

Draco looked at Potter, slumped on the ground like a tired shadow. He didn't look like the hero of the wizarding world. _Practically a Squib_. The werewolf had mentioned Potter's loss of power. Draco wondered if Potter thought it was worth it. Sure Voldemort was gone—but the cost… it was unimaginable. Perhaps it was easier for Potter, who had lived as a Muggle for the first eleven years of his life.

Draco shook his head. Regardless, it was awful, but at least it couldn't have happened to a better person. If Draco could have requested anyone lose their powers, Harry Potter would have been top of the list. The bastard could still fly, though. Draco had been holding his own, but it hadn't been easy.

Potter stayed where he was, head bowed in a Zen-like state. Draco pulled a water skin from his pack and took a long drink before he walked over and refilled it from the stream with a Freshening Charm. As he passed Potter, his dark head raised and he watched Draco without speaking. Draco stoppered the water skin as he stood and watched a sliver of moon cresting the horizon. He sighed. It was going to be a long trip if they couldn't even speak to each other. Not that he really had anything to say to the Chosen One, but it was annoying that he couldn't even give him a good insult. How would Potter fight back? With a Stinging Hex? It was sad.

When the moon was nearly clear of the horizon, Draco shrugged on his pack and topped it with his cloak. Potter rose without comment and did the same, after buckling the sword on first. Draco stepped over his broom. He wondered if he should warn Potter—they had some dangerous terrain to cross and hours yet left to fly. It wouldn't be an easy trip. He pictured the stubborn glare Potter always threw at him and knew it would be a waste of breath.

They took off into the night without a word.

 

Draco felt something… off. He slowed, having learnt the hard way never to ignore a premonition. He hadn't been this far east in a long time and wasn't as familiar with the dangers.

He gestured sharply to Potter, who slowed without question. At least the spill Potter had taken had taught him to pay attention. Malfoy slowed further. His "strange feeling" had grown to real trepidation; he stopped and dismounted. Potter did the same, and still he did not ask questions, which was fine with Draco, because he did not have any answers.

Draco placed his broom on the ground and gestured to Potter to stay back as he walked forward cautiously. Six meters, then ten, and then a gaping chasm opened at his feet, stretching away in the moonlight like the mouth of hell. Draco could feel something calling to him—pulling at him from below. He frowned and backed away to stand next to Potter.

"This is bad," he said without preamble. "I've seen something like this once before. It's a magical canyon with something nasty—and hungry—at the bottom. I don't know what because I never cared to get close enough to find out. It will try to pull us down by any means."

"Can't we go around it?"

Draco shook his head. "Now that it has a fix on us, it will follow."

"A _canyon_ will follow us?"

Draco said nothing. Apparently, Potter had been quite sheltered from some of the nastier magic that had cropped up in the past couple of years.

"What's to keep it from following us if we manage to get across?"

"The forest on the other side," Draco admitted. "It has something of a reputation."

"A _bad_ reputation, I suppose?"

"You're the one that wanted to go this way, Potter. A trip to Hogwarts would have been a piece of cake."

Harry sighed explosively. "I don't have any choice. How do we cross?"

For reply, Draco slung off his cloak and pack. Potter wasn't going to like the answer any more than Draco did.

"By doing the unexpected. Give me your broom."

Potter wordlessly handed over his broom. Draco cast a few spells and bound the two brooms together before he lashed his pack to the front of the tied handles. He did the same with Potter's pack, placing it to the rear. Then he levitated the contraption to check the balance. Harry looked far from pleased.

"You expect us to ride together?" he asked flatly.

"I'm not thrilled with the idea, either, Potter. But this thing will pick us off like flies over a toad-infested pond if we try to cross alone. This way, our abilities will be combined. You will, of course, need to follow my lead. Even with both of us working together, it won't be easy."

When the brooms were secure and Draco was satisfied with the apparatus, he looked at Potter.

"Make sure that sword is strapped tight and won't fall out of the scabbard if we end up upside down."

Potter frowned, but tightened the sword. When he couldn't delay any longer, Draco stepped over the brooms.

"Let's get this over with," he said resignedly.


	3. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Harry reluctantly moved over and stood behind Malfoy. Frankly, the idea of being so close to him was almost worse than the thought of facing whatever lurked below. The brooms rose and Harry found himself gripping Malfoy gingerly on the shoulders for balance.

"You'll have to do better than that, Potter, or we're both dead." The taunt in Malfoy's voice geared Harry into action more than the words. He swore and shifted himself forward until he was pressed tightly against Malfoy's back and his thighs rested beneath Malfoy's. Harry shifted his hands down to hold Malfoy's waist. Thankfully, Malfoy kept his patented commentary to himself, for once, and they started across the yawning chasm.

It was a nightmare beyond belief. Within moments, a tangible force tried to yank them into the depths. Harry and Malfoy strained to keep the brooms aloft and on course. They were suddenly released and shot upwards. Before they could recover, they were tossed sideways and spun into a dizzying circle.

Harry found his arms wrapped tightly around Malfoy's waist as he clung to him like a baby koala. His face pressed hard against the back of Malfoy's neck. He could feel every shift of Malfoy's weight, thankfully, for he that meant he could anticipate his movements.

They pulled out of the spin and then Malfoy sent them into a looping, high speed circle that he suddenly halted. They plunged straight downward. The malevolent force seemed just as surprised as Harry, who felt the pressure against them release for the barest instant. Harry lent his strength to Malfoy, suddenly trusting him implicitly. Malfoy responded by launching the brooms upwards towards the canyon's lip at a speed faster than Harry had ever flown.

They hurtled out of the chasm and Harry felt a tangible cloud of frustrated rage follow them as they blasted over the trees. Harry was shocked for a moment by the feeling of weightlessness, and then they began to fall, still traveling incredibly fast.

Malfoy snatched out his wand and managed to cast a spell before they slammed into the trees. They stopped as if crashing into a snow bank, jarring, but not painful, until they hit the ground and rolled.

They landed side by side and lay still for a stunned moment. Harry trembled with exertion and dripped with sweat. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. He heard the labored panting of Malfoy next to him.

"Potter?" Malfoy asked after their breathing had nearly returned to normal. Harry opened his eyes and looked at the treetops visible above and the stars beyond.

"Yeah?"

"You're on my hair."

The words jolted Harry with the knowledge that he was still disagreeably close to Malfoy. Their heads were touching and Malfoy's silvery hair was trapped beneath Harry's head. Malfoy's cloak was bunched under Harry's back. He quickly rolled over and staggered to his feet. Malfoy got up slowly.

"You untie the brooms while I determine where we are," Malfoy ordered as he dusted himself off fastidiously. Harry's eyes narrowed at the tone of command. Malfoy caught the look and smirked at him—the first time Harry had seen the familiar expression in years.

"Unless you want to ride with me some more?" he drawled suggestively.

"Arsehole," Harry muttered and started working on the knots whilst Malfoy disappeared into the trees.

ooOoo

Draco walked carefully into the forest, taking care to note his path in order to retrace his steps. He did not sense any danger—leaving the chasm had apparently taken care of the threat. He hoped to find a decent clearing so they could camp for the night. The trip across the canyon had exhausted him; his day had been busy long before he'd met up with Potter.

A soft sound caused him to freeze. He turned and cast a bright Light Spell with his wand. A girl stood nearby, leaning against a tree. She didn't flinch at the light. She wore the merest slip of a green dress. Her hair was honey-brown and looped down to her slender waist. A smile curved her lips; the color of red currants.

"Hi, handsome," she purred. Draco did not relax. It was beyond suspicious to find a delicate-looking maiden lurking in the forest in the middle of the night, especially _this_ forest. She pushed herself away from the tree.

"Hello," Draco replied warily. "Who are you?"

"I am Betula. Come here so I can see you better."

Draco stepped closer, holding his light high.

She smiled. "You are handsome! Why are you here?"

"Just passing through. I'm looking for a place to camp, at the moment."

"You can rest with me," she offered and held her arms open as if to welcome his embrace. "Come. Kiss me."

Draco felt an overwhelming compulsion to do just that. He fought it. "Just let me build a quick fire and then I will stay a while," he said quietly.

She shrank back with a gasp. "Oh no! You mustn't! No fire."

Draco chuckled. "Dryad."

Betula stamped a bare foot and gave him a pretty pout. "No kiss?"

"Definitely no kiss," he replied flatly. He relaxed and dimmed his wand slightly. She was no danger as long as he stayed away from the circle of her tree. "Are you the most dangerous creature in this forest?"

She paced on a vaguely curved path a short distance from the tree trunk. "I'm not dangerous at all, handsome. Come here and I'll show you."

"No thanks. You won't tell me anything about this place?"

"No." Betula was petulant.

"All right. Goodbye, dryad." He turned and started away.

"Wait!" she cried.

Draco suppressed a smile as he turned to look at her.

"Deeper in the forest, take care to eat and drink nothing you find there."

"My thanks, Betula. That bit of advice is nearly worth a kiss. Nearly."

"Maybe you'll come back someday?"

"If I ever get the urge to be eternally trapped in a tree, you can count on it."

He blew her a kiss and went back to Potter, who was slumped on the ground like the very picture of exhaustion and despair. Draco's eyes narrowed as he critically examined Potter. He was paler than Draco had ever seen him, and almost too thin. He needed to eat and get some rest or he'd likely pass out. The present locale was far too enclosed, rocky… and close to dryads.

Potter seemed to sense his presence and his dark head snapped up. He quickly got to his feet.

"We need to move on a bit," Draco said.

"Can we fly?"

"No. That's why we fell. This forest nullifies flight. We'll have to walk out."

Potter made no comment. He just nodded and slung on sword and pack, and picked up his broom. Draco did the same.

He led Potter back towards the dryad tree, intending to pass through the clearing and beyond. A girl suddenly appeared in front of Potter and snagged him into an embrace. Her hair was vibrantly red and her body was lithe and beautiful.

"I'm Ilex," she purred. "What's your hurry?"

"Don't kiss her unless you feel like growing a trunk and leaves," Draco warned, but Potter had already recoiled. Poor Dryad—red probably hadn't been the best choice to use on Potter, likely conjuring images of his dead girlfriend. "In fact, it's probably a good idea not to kiss anything in this forest."

"No fair, handsome!" Betula called from behind them. "You didn't tell me there were two of you!"

Draco tucked away his wand for a moment, plunging them into darkness, and reached back to grab Potter's wrist. He pulled Potter away from the red-haired dryad, which took some force. The supernatural were always stronger than they looked.

"You can let go now," Potter told him after a few steps.

Draco released him and retrieved his wand. He cast another _Lumos_ and led Potter on a circuitous route past the trees. They avoided more dryads in that fashion.


	4. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The undergrowth grew thicker and Draco alternately used his wand to light the way and cut a path. He hoped they would find a decent place to camp soon—he was bloody exhausted. Anything without brambles or dryads would suffice.

An odd sound caused Draco to pause. He instinctively doused his wand and reached back a hand to silence Potter, who probably wouldn't have spoken anyway. Potter seemed to be moving in a trance; he stopped when Draco's fingertips touched his chest. His face shone pale in the dim moonlight that filtered through the trees.

"Stay here," Draco breathed to him.

Draco pushed his way out of the latest set of thorn bushes and froze, alert for every sound. A barely audible hiss warned him and he dropped to one knee. An arrow thunked into a tree after it whisked over his head.

Draco stood in one fluid movement and cast an assortment of spells towards the origin of the arrow whilst launching himself forwards. A volley of arrows followed him until they were abruptly cut off by a muffled cry—one of his spells had connected.

He kept moving, not intending to become a pincushion, and he also wanted to draw any potential fire away from Potter, who couldn't fight back.

Of course, Potter, being of Gryffindor persuasion, had other ideas. He leaped into sight with wand drawn. Luckily, Draco's spell must have incapacitated their attacker, since Potter wasn't cut down by a hail of arrows.

Draco forced his way through the brush to find a petrified centaur glaring at him. He swore. Centaurs rarely traveled alone. He turned and pelted back to Potter.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" he said and snatched a handful of Potter's shirt. He dragged him until they were running pell-mell through the forest. Hopefully, the horse-creature was alone and would stay immobilized for some time. Draco wasn't certain how effective his spells would be on centaurs—they seemed to lean towards magical resistance.

They ran until Potter sprawled headlong and nearly knocked Draco over, as well. He stopped to help Potter to his feet. They were both gasping with exertion. Potter left his broom on the ground.

"No more," he panted.

Draco tossed his broom next to Potter's and shrugged off his pack again. He helped Potter to remove his burden.

"You're bleeding, Malfoy," Harry commented in a tired monotone. It wasn't until then that Draco felt the sting. One of the arrows must have nicked him. His bicep was drenched in drying blood.

"Damn." Draco looked around carefully. They stood in a small clearing that was unnaturally quiet. Draco strained his ears, but there was no sound of pursuit. No sound at all, actually, except the rasp of Potter's breathing. "I suppose we can rest a moment." Draco unbuttoned his shirt.

Potter walked a few steps and then threw himself gratefully onto a soft-looking patch of grass.

"What time do you suppose it is?"

Draco glanced at the sky as he peeled his shirt off. The sleeve stuck to his wound. "About one a.m.," he said and yanked, wincing as the action tore the gash open. It didn't look deep, but it was serious enough to bleed like the devil.

"Wild strawberries," Harry commented.

Draco turned at the odd comment, wondering if Potter was becoming delusional. Potter tossed a handful of berries into his mouth and Draco's blood turned to ice.

"No!"he yelled and bounded across the intervening space to pound Potter on the back with an open palm.

A number of small berries flew out of Harry's mouth and sprayed on the ground. Potter coughed for a moment and then glared at him. "Fuck, Malfoy! What the hell?"

"A dryad told me not to eat or drink anything here."

"Do you think you might have mentioned that?" Potter burst out loudly. "Oh no—"

"We've been rather busy—what do you mean by 'oh no?'"

"I swallowed one."

Draco felt sick. They stared at one another for a long, sober moment in the darkness.

"Let's hope we haven't yet reached the border of the dangerous area. How do you feel?"

"Fine. Still hungry, actually."

Draco went back to his pack to find Potter some food. He carried dried beef, bread, and cheese back to Potter, who lay flat on the grass.

"You know, Malfoy, suddenly I'm not very hungry. Just tired. I'm so incredibly tired…"

Draco grabbed Potter's shirt to haul him upright. "No, you don't. We could have a herd of centaurs on our heels and we have no idea what other dangers lurk out there. You sit right up and eat. We'll rest later."

Potter nodded weakly and ate the food Draco handed to him, but he seemed required to force it down. He swallowed obediently from Draco's water skin when he finished.

"Time to go," Draco said after he stowed his pack once more. He took Potter's hands and dragged him to his feet, trying not to notice how unsteady Potter looked. Hopefully he merely suffered from normal exhaustion. Draco slung Gryffindor's sword over his own shoulder. He helped Potter to don his pack and then levitated the brooms and had them float along behind like trailing dogs.

Draco led the way and Potter followed, Inferius-like, behind him. Draco turned often to check on his progress. After about a quarter-hour of trudging, Potter asked, "Malfoy? Do you hear music?"

Draco stopped and listened intently. Nothing. Not even crickets or frogs. No sounds at all. "No, Potter. I do not hear music. Now, let's get you out of this infernal forest."

They continued onward and Draco found himself moving faster and faster, returning time and again to urge Potter to keep up.

"It's getting louder," Harry said sometime later. "It's so beautiful… like nothing I've ever heard."

"Don't listen to it!" A cold spike of fear sliced through Draco's chest. He clutched Potter's shoulders and gave him a shake. A sheen of sweat glazed Potter's forehead. Draco swallowed hard. He needed to get Potter to shelter and figure out how to fight this. He swore roundly. He'd never lost a client yet, and he sure as _hell_ wasn't about to lose the hero of the wizarding world.

He glanced about frantically. They had been climbing somewhat and the way was getting rockier. With luck, there would be a cave or something nearby.

A glint of light caught Draco's eye. He stared and blinked. Nothing. He shrugged. One direction was as good as another. He sighed and slung an arm across Potter's shoulders to guide him. Potter didn't seem to notice. His eyes stared far away.


	5. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

After dragging Potter across rough terrain for twenty minutes, Draco's shirtless torso was covered in scratches and his breath came in ragged gasps of fatigue. He couldn't believe his eyes when he spotted the cabin. For a moment, his senses screamed at him not to trust it. Then he noticed one portion of the roof was caved in and vines nearly covered the entire structure. No phantom structure this, but one long abandoned.

Draco half-carried Potter to the hut and shouldered open the door. He raised his wand to illuminate the place and frowned when a scurrying sound resulted. Rats. Despite the vermin, the original owner seemed to have disappeared without removing his goods. A bed with moldering blankets stood in one corner and a small table sat in the other. An assortment of old utensils lay on the table. Pots and pans adorned the walls on rusting hooks. Draco released Potter, who sank to his knees. Draco lit the lamp that sat on the rough bedside table. The bed frame was broken, so Draco repaired and cleaned it, and then transfigured the old blankets into a feather-stuffed mattress.

He hauled Potter to the bed and laid him down before covering him with his cloak.

"So beautiful," Potter muttered. He was ghost-white.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Potter's shoulders. "Potter! Stay here, damn you! Stop listening to it! Remember me? I'm the one that smashed your nose on the Hogwarts Express! I'll do it again if you don't stay with me!"

Incredibly, Potter's green eyes returned to sharp lucidity for a moment. His hands reached up to grab Draco's bare arms. Taut fingers gripped Draco's arrow wound and he winced.

"Malfoy—God, I can't concentrate! You need to stop this music."

"How?"

"You need to sing."

"I need to—what?"

"Sing, damn it! You've got to drown this music! It's calling me and I can't keep fighting it."

Draco was mystified. He tried to remember if he had ever sung aloud in his life, other than silly renditions of "Weasley is our king" at Hogwarts. Potter's eyes fluttered shut. Draco shook him again as Potter's grip slackened.

"Okay! I'll sing!" Draco began a Scottish ballad he remembered his mother singing when he was a child. He started hesitantly at first, but his voice grew stronger as the words came back to him. Potter's eyes watched him, half-open, but there was no smile on his lips. This was no game to make Draco look like a fool.

"I think it's working," Potter murmured. Draco kept singing while he cast his mind towards a solution. He couldn't sing to Potter forever. For one thing, he only knew the words to a handful of songs. For another, it was embarrassing as hell. For a third, he was utterly spent and his voice was already a dry, unlovely rasp. It would only get worse the longer he sang.

A shimmer of light caught Draco's attention and he blinked at the apparition before him. It was a stunningly beautiful woman, glowing like an ethereal vision. Her hair was a cross between silver and gold, and brushed back over ears that were delicately pointed. Her almond-shaped eyes were huge pools of sapphire blue.

"Who dares to defy the power of Faerie?" she demanded in a voice like silver bells.

"I do," Draco said evenly, breaking off in mid-song.

A smiled curved her ruby lips. "Aren't you the beautiful one? And strong, too, to bring that one back to you. Kiss me, beautiful stranger."

Draco actually got to his feet and took a step towards her before he caught himself and shook off the impulse.

"I don't think so," he said. She smiled prettily, but her blue eyes glinted. Draco continued, "You can't have him."

"He's important to you, then?"

Draco considered. Potter wasn't important to him, personally, but losing him sure as hell would be. "Yes."

"Will you sing to him forever?"

"There has to be another way." His voice contained a question. Hell, he was on the verge of begging for an answer.

"There is one way, beautiful. I won't tell you, of course. But maybe I'll give you a hint."

"Do I have to pay for this hint?"

She laughed, a sound so beautiful it was almost painful to hear. "You would never willingly give me that which I desire from you, lovely mortal. So here is your hint—what is the strongest magic in Faerie?"

"That's my hint?" Draco asked dubiously.

She smiled. "That which you withheld from me, perhaps you will grant to your friend. More than that, I cannot say. Good luck. I will take good care of your handsome friend, should you fail." With that she winked out, leaving only a bright spark of light hovering in the air before that, too, disappeared.

Draco looked back at Potter and pondered her words. _What is the strongest magic in Faerie?_ How the hell should he know? He tried to approach the problem from a different angle. What was the strongest magic in the wizarding world? Spells involving… what? Blood? Sacrifice? He thought about Potter's magic, granted by his mother's death. What was the root of the sacrifice? Draco snapped his fingers. Love. Of course. The strongest magic in any world, as far as he knew.

He recoiled at the thought. He certainly didn't love Potter! He merely didn't want Potter's soul sucked into Faerie, leaving him to explain what had happened to the Chosen One on his watch… But there was no time to flit about looking for someone that did love Potter. Draco raked a hand through his hair. There had to be a solution.

_That which you withheld from me, perhaps you will grant to your friend._

Draco looked at Potter in dawning horror. Potter's eyes were open, but his features were strained, evidence of his effort to hold onto reality. His gaze was questioning.

 _That which you withheld from me_ … A token of love. The strongest magic in Faerie. A kiss.

"Potter. To save you, I have to kiss you."

"You're joking." Potter's voice was weak.

"Afraid not, sport. They're big on kissing around here, in case you haven't noticed."

There was a long, silent pause that grew longer.

"What are you waiting for, Malfoy?"

"I'm thinking."

Potter groaned. "Come on, Malfoy. I swear I'll never mention it as long as I live, if you succeed. God, do I swear it."

Draco sighed. There was no escaping it. He sat on the edge of the bed again. Potter shut his eyes, which made it easier. Draco pulled off Potter's glasses and set them aside.

He steeled himself. Bloody hell, this shouldn't be that difficult. He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of Potter's head; his skin was warm, almost feverish, and his hair was soft as down. The feel of it surprised Draco for a moment.

Potter was surprisingly handsome without the spectacles marring his features. His nose was straight and slender. Thick black lashes rested on beautifully chiseled cheeks. _Damn, Potter is almost as good looking as me_ , Draco thought in amazement. Suddenly, kissing him didn't seem quite so horrifying. Draco lowered his face and touched his lips softly to Potter's, but he had learned never to do anything in half measures.

"Hold onto your hat," he thought wickedly and slanted his mouth over Potter's.


	6. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The music faltered. Harry felt as if he were two places at once. He was only vaguely aware of his conversation with Malfoy, though he clung stubbornly to the melodic sound of Malfoy's voice… odd that he had never noticed that quality before.

The stronger part of him seemed to be in a tunnel sparking with color. At the end of the passage was a dazzling glow and the source of the beautiful sound that called to Harry like a Siren. _Come away, come away, come away_ … It promised peace and joy and blessed forgetfulness. He took another step towards the light.

Part of him spoke to Malfoy. The other part strained to reach the music, wanting more than anything to race down the tunnel. _Come away…_ The fading part of him felt Malfoy's hands slide into his hair—an unexpected caress. And then Malfoy's lips touched his and the music hesitated. Harry halted in the passage between worlds.

Malfoy's mouth twisted, pressing almost painfully over Harry's. His tongue entered the fray and the kiss became demanding, ravishing, hot and incredible. Harry snapped back into his body with a suddenness that was almost painful. The dreamlike quality of Malfoy's kiss fled, leaving the overwhelming reality of Malfoy's mouth on his, searching, tugging, and teasing at Harry's reawakened senses. Harry felt the crushing weight of pure desire flooding through him and would have gasped if he could breathe.

He reached up to push Malfoy away. One hand touched Malfoy's bare chest—the other plunged into the gossamer softness of Malfoy's hair and froze. At Harry's touch, Malfoy's kiss changed. The rough, demanding strokes were replaced with gentleness, a playful teasing of tongue against tongue—lapping erotically.

To his horror, Harry felt his body respond. His hand tightened in Malfoy's hair, but not to push him away. Malfoy caressed the roof of Harry's mouth, sending shudders of delight pulsing through his body. Harry moaned.

Malfoy's teeth tugged at Harry's lower lip gently when he finally ended the tortuous kiss. Harry's hands fell away weakly as Malfoy sat back and looked at him. To Harry's intense relief, Malfoy looked as shaken as he felt.

"Are you back?" Malfoy asked hoarsely.

"After that? Hell, you could call a soul back from a dementor's kiss." Harry groaned and flung a hand over his eyes after that admission, not willing to see the satisfied smirk on Malfoy 's face. Harry's body was still inflamed with desire. He shifted slightly, hoping to hell Malfoy wouldn't notice. God, he'd never been kissed like that. Not ever. Not even by Ginny, who had loved him enough to die for him.

What the hell was Malfoy playing at? A simple tap on the lips probably would have sufficed. He kept his arm over his eyes.

"Get some rest, Potter," he heard Malfoy say. "We'll stay here until morning. I think we're safe now."

Malfoy's voice was laden with fatigue and Harry suddenly felt his own bone-deep exhaustion. Malfoy had to be just as tired, if not more so. Harry felt a tug as the cloak was drawn up to his chin. For a moment, he thought he felt a hand brush the hair back from his brow, so softly he decided it must be his imagination.

Harry drifted into a deep—but thankfully mortal—sleep.

ooOoo

Draco watched as Harry's breathing grew slow and even. He raked a hand through his own silvery locks and set about preparing a bed for himself. The bed Potter slept in was plenty big enough for two, but he sure as hell wasn't going there. He was still feeling a bit shaken by the kiss. It had started as a playful game and then had exploded out of his control.

A whisper of sound made him turn, to find the fairy hovering in the room once more.

"Well played, handsome," she said with a pert smile. "You are as smart as you are beautiful. How did you know a brotherly peck would not have been adequate to save him?"

"I didn't," Draco admitted.

She looked at him speculatively. "All gifts have a price. I wonder if you will have the strength to pay for yours."

Draco rubbed his temples. He was far too tired to have esoteric conversations with ethereal beings.

"I wish you well, beautiful mortal. If you ever tire of the human world, we will welcome you in Faerie."

She was gone. Draco transfigured another mattress, tossed it on the floor, and collapsed on it. A herd of centaurs could have broken in and neither of them would have awakened.


	7. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Draco woke sometime after dawn, still tired, but the hard edge of weariness had softened to a bearable level. He rose and gathered firewood from a stash near the rear of the hut. A fire was quickly laid and started in the ramshackle fireplace. Draco could not hunt and had no fresh food to prepare, but he made some strong, hot tea and gratefully drank two cups. He ate some dried fruit and cheese and grimaced when a twinge reminded him he had never tended the slash on his arm.

He hated to waste water, but he did not need the wound to get infected. He poured some water onto a cloth and began to wash the gash. Potter groaned and stirred. After a moment, he sat up and blinked at Draco. He slipped his glasses on and tried again.

"Good morning, honey," Draco called companionably. Potter flushed scarlet. No question about the clarity of his memory, Draco mused. At least in relation to the kissing incident. Draco frowned. Had Potter really kissed him back, or was his memory already changing with time?

Potter swung his feet off the bed and slid a hand through his hair. Draco swallowed, recalling the silky feel of it. Bloody hell, what was wrong with him?

"The tea is hot," he commented, and managed a fairly normal tone. Potter padded over and knelt next to Draco, who poured him a cup. Potter sipped it gratefully and wrapped his hands around the cup. Draco noticed his cheeks were still tinted with pink. He grinned sardonically and went back to tending his arm.

"I used to be able to heal something like that," Potter commented.

Draco nodded. Harry's green eyes fixed on him.

"Want me to try it?"

Draco met his gaze. He knew Potter's powers were mostly gone, and healing magic was difficult. "Knock yourself out," he said softly.

Potter pulled out his wand and shut his eyes for a moment. Then he took a breath and hovered his wand over the slice on Draco's arm, which was oozing blood again now that Draco had soaked it. For a long time, nothing happened. Draco seriously did not expect it to, but then he felt something, as if a warm compress had been placed over the wound. Draco watched in amazement when it began to knit together.

Potter sagged when it was done and his wand fell away. Draco stared at him in surprise and Potter grinned.

"Sometimes it works. Looks like today is a good day," he said.

Draco looked at the wound. It was jagged and raw-looking, but closed. He raised a brow at Potter, impressed. Potter's eyes met his, glinting happily, and Draco suddenly felt like kissing him again. He stood abruptly, disturbed by the thought.

"Eat something and we'll get moving. I want to get out of this damned fairy forest as soon as possible."

Draco quickly dragged on a shirt. He stowed his pack while Potter ate and soon they were shouldering their way through the forest, brooms in hand.

ooOoo

Harry followed Malfoy and tried not to notice how graceful he was; Malfoy barely stirred a leaf when he walked and he stepped over fallen logs and skirted brambles like a creature born in the forest. Harry felt slow and somewhat clumsy tripping along in his footsteps.

Malfoy slowed and looked back often to check on Harry's progress. Something had profoundly changed between them. Harry found it hard to believe that one stupid kiss could cause a complete shift in behaviour, but he supposed it had been more than that. Malfoy had saved Harry's life—saved his soul. That wasn't something he could take lightly, but he had rather expected Malfoy to shrug it off.

If only Harry's mind would stop backtracking to the kiss. A dozen times, the question sprang to his lips to ask why Malfoy had felt it necessary to kiss him like _that_ , but he didn't want to hear Malfoy's flippant response. What did he want to hear? That Malfoy had kissed him because he wanted to? Because he couldn't resist?

Harry cursed himself and tried to concentrate on his ultimate goal. He just needed to get out of this ridiculous forest, find the Horcrux, and put Malfoy behind him forever. Only that mattered.

Malfoy pushed them relentlessly until after midday when he finally halted abruptly. Harry ran into him. They both went down in an unexpected tangle of limbs. Harry sprawled atop him and their faces were inches apart. Their breath mingled for a moment and Harry found himself marveling at the color of Malfoy's eyes in the daylight—like the bright edge of a storm cloud touched by the sun.

A grin quirked Malfoy's lips. "As much as I might be enjoying this, Potter, we should probably continue on."

Harry blushed scarlet and quickly pushed himself to his feet. "You're the one who stopped," he muttered. Damned Malfoy. _As much as I might be enjoying this_. God.

"True," Malfoy said as he climbed to his feet and brushed himself off. Harry reached out and removed a leaf that clung to Malfoy's hair. Malfoy froze at his touch for a moment, eyes wide, until Harry held up the offending object and then his silver gaze slid away. "Thanks. I wanted to test something."

He barked a command and his broom suddenly hovered in midair. Malfoy looked at Harry and smiled in genuine pleasure. Harry laughed, so happy he could have hugged Draco.

"We can fly again!"

"And eat," Malfoy added. "We can hunt now that we're out of the fairy forest."

"Forget it. No more forest food for me. Isn't there a Muggle town nearby? I want real food. I'm starved."

"You plan to walk into a Muggle town carrying two brooms and a sword?"

Harry smiled. "Trust me."


	8. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

They located a small town and Malfoy uncertainly followed Harry's lead, though he most likely kept one hand clutched around his wand in the pocket of his cape. Harry did exactly as Malfoy had sardonically suggested—marched straight into town and stopped at the first open pub.

The barkeep looked at them curiously, but said nothing when Harry ordered two pints of best and sat down at a small table in the corner. The barmaid was more talkative when she brought them their ales. She looked from one of them to the other in approval. Her eyes lingered on Malfoy.

"What's with the brooms and capes, mate?" she asked pleasantly.

"Renaissance Faire," Harry said. "Car broke down."

"Couldn't you have left the brooms in the car?"

Harry snorted. "You're joking! These are handmade, they are. Impossible to replace."

She laughed. "All right, don't get your dander up. You need a lift back to your car when you're done here?" Her eyes sparkled suggestively.

Harry shook his head. "Got a ride coming. Thanks, though."

She took their order and left. Malfoy raised a brow at him as though impressed. Harry grinned in an I-told-you-so manner. They ate a huge lunch and drank far more than they should have. Harry was in a celebratory mood after escaping the forest intact. He had prepared for the journey by carrying both wizarding and Muggle money, so he paid for the meal and they departed, albeit somewhat unsteadily.

They meandered through the town a bit before heading out on what looked to be a little used road. They could not take to brooms until the danger of being spotted was past, which meant a quick walk to the far outskirts of the village.

"That barmaid wanted me," Malfoy said suddenly.

"I thought you didn't touch Muggles. They're tainted and all that."

"I might make an exception for that one. She was bloody cute." Malfoy slanted a silver gaze at Harry. "Almost as cute as you, Potter."

Harry flushed. "Very funny."

Malfoy laughed. "It's ridiculously easy to make you blush, you know?" He reached out a hand and brushed a thumb across Harry's cheek.

Harry knocked his hand away in annoyance. "Are you drunk?" he asked sharply.

"No. Just pleasantly tipsy," Malfoy replied. "Those Muggles make pretty good ale."

He tripped suddenly and Harry instinctively caught his arm to keep him from falling. He dragged Malfoy upright, though Malfoy's broom smacked into the dirt and he closed both fists in Harry's shirt. He swayed forward and Harry braced himself to keep them from toppling backward. Malfoy's lips brushed Harry's neck as he leaned forward to whisper to Harry with a chuckle.

"I knew you'd catch me."

"You are drunk!" Harry exclaimed. Malfoy slid both arms around Harry's neck despite Harry's efforts to dislodge him.

"No, no, no. I'm fine." Malfoy steadied himself and pulled back slightly to look into Harry's face. "Want me to kiss you again, Potter?" His silver eyes sparkled with merriment and he smiled in wicked delight. Harry almost smiled back—God, but he was irritatingly charming in this state.

"Of course," Harry snapped, hoping to snap Malfoy out of it with sarcasm. "I live to be kissed by you."

Malfoy took him at his word. He leant forward again and clamped his lips to Harry's. Harry's eyes opened in surprise—he hadn't expected Draco to actually do it. Thankfully, the kiss wasn't as ravishing and molten as his last attempt—this was more of a sweet tease and Malfoy actually chuckled as he nibbled at Harry's mouth. His hands reached up to touch Harry's face and his thumbs pressed the corners of his mouth.

"Loosen up, Potter," he breathed with his lips still brushing Harry's. "Learn to have a little fun."

His words jolted Harry more than Malfoy could have known. Harry could not even remember the last time he had done anything remotely _fun_. He scowled and dropped his broom, then grabbed Malfoy's face with both hands. If he wanted kissing, Harry would bloody well oblige him.

He slanted his mouth over Malfoy's, which seemed to be what he was waiting for. His hands twisted into Harry's hair and his tongue began an assault that made his kiss in the forest seem like child's play. Harry felt reality slipping away as pure pleasure washed over him. His hands slid from Malfoy's face into his silken hair as he was overcome by sheer animal need. Part of him was screaming at the wrongness of it, but he found he didn't care. He wanted… he needed… God, he must be insane. Malfoy's mouth left his to blaze a wet path down his jaw to the hollow of his collarbone. Harry shuddered.

Malfoy's hands left Harry's hair and then gripped his shoulders as he pushed himself away forcibly. He was panting as he grinned weakly at Harry.

"I think that's enough fun for one afternoon," Malfoy said shakily. He bent down and picked up his broom. Harry drew a ragged breath and did the same in a shocked daze. Malfoy started jauntily down the road and then glanced back briefly. He paused, waited for Harry, and prepared to mount his broom.

"Hey, Potter?"

Harry reluctantly met the fathomless grey eyes, to find them gazing at him in perfect clarity. A wide grin curved Malfoy's lips.

"Yeah?"

"Malfoys never get drunk."

He chuckled and soared into the air. Harry felt pole-axed. The bastard had engineered the whole—! Harry furiously mounted his broom and took off in pursuit.


	9. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

It took Potter a while to catch him. Draco made sure of it, figuring Potter would be rather annoyed. In that, he was right. Draco halted finally and hovered in the air. When he glanced over, he met Potter's stormy green eyes and smiled pleasantly.

"Why did you do that?" Potter demanded.

"Do what?" Draco asked innocently.

"You know very well what!"

"Because I wanted to."

Potter flushed and dropped his eyes. Draco waited, but he seemed at a loss for words. Draco grinned; if he'd known it would be so easy to disconcert Potter he would have started kissing him years ago.

"Behold, Norwich," Draco said and waved expansively. The city was visible on the horizon. "Where do we go from here?"

Potter scanned the area. "North," he said finally. "There's a ravine… I'll know it when I see it."

"Fly north, look for ravines. Gryffindors make such _excellent_ plans."

Potter ignored him and took off. Draco chuckled and followed. For some reason, he was in an excellent mood.

They flew low and carefully in order to avoid Muggle onlookers. Draco suggested waiting until evening, but Potter was afraid he wouldn't be able to find what he sought in the dark. Finally, they traversed a large sheep pasture and skirted the edge of a hill until Potter cried out, "There!" He dropped like a shot down to what looked like the crumbling remains of an old well, which turned out to be exactly what it was. Draco frowned as they dismounted and Potter peered down into the darkness.

"What exactly is down there that would cause you to risk dryads, centaurs, fairies, killer canyons… and my company?"

Potter met his eyes soberly. "The object that is keeping Voldemort alive."

"I thought he was dead."

"Gone, but not dead. He reverted back to the vaporous state he was in during the first eleven years of my life. I'd like to prevent his return."

"Yes, that was quite annoying last time." Draco thought Potter might be a bit off his rocker, but he decided to humour him.

"Okay. So, we go down into the well. Another delightful day in the life of a Gryffindor." Draco leaned over and cast a Light Spell. It revealed nothing but stone stretching away into the darkness.

"I'll go first," Potter said. Draco ignored him and hopped lightly into the hole. He cast a Levitation Charm to slow his fall, and then lit his wand again. The well was hellishly deep and when Draco finally landed, he was hip-deep in brackish water. He grimaced.

"What am I looking for, Potter?" he called up.

"I'm not sure. A passage, most likely."

"Not sure," Draco muttered. "Lovely." He pressed on various stones. After five minutes, he started losing the circulation in his legs from the cold water.

"I'm not finding anything, Potter!" A stone hurtled down, barely missed Draco's head, and splashed down next to him, spraying water up onto his face. Draco glared upwards. "Bloody hell! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry! I'm coming down. Ah… can you slow me down?"

"No, I'd rather you knock me cold landing on my head."

The light suddenly blocked out and Draco quickly cast upwards to slow Potter's fall. He splashed down next to Draco. It was a tight fit, and dark again until Draco cast another _Lumos_.

"Okay. So now we're both in a well. Wet. And cold. Are you sure this isn't a ploy to get me alone?"

Potter pulled at his hair in customary annoyance and then spoke in a strange, hissing language. Part of the stone wall fell away, taking the water with it. The opening widened to reveal a dark passageway. The water washing along the floor caused something to stir. Draco stepped forwards and brightened the light from his wand.

The entire place seemed to shift.

"Snakes," Draco said, trying to suppress his horror. The walls and floor were practically covered with snakes of all types and sizes.

"You're a Slytherin. I thought you liked snakes."

"Not all of them at one time."

A cobra reared itself and bared its fangs at them. Others slithered quickly towards them, stirred by the water, light and motion, no doubt. Draco stepped prudently behind Potter.

"Fine, I admit it! I'm a horrible Slytherin. I hate those nasty, scaly, slithering, poisonous horrors. The thought of actually touching one makes my skin crawl."

Potter actually laughed, which annoyed Draco because it was definitely not the time for laughing. Not when a horrifying mass of reptilian hell was looking at them with dead-flat eyes and pointy dripping fangs.

Potter talked to the snakes. Draco had quite forgotten that he knew how to do that. The reptiles halted and seemed to be listening to him.

"Voldemort put them here. They've been breeding and feeding upon each other, unable to escape. It's horrible."

"Horrible," Draco repeated, although he didn't really see a downside to having a large herd of venomous snakes safely contained in an underground pit.

"Can you free them?" Potter asked.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Malfoy!"

"All right, bloody hell, you can be distressingly altruistic. They had better not fucking bite me."

Draco raised his wand and found the connected magical points in the room that contained the serpents like an invisible cage. It was a simple matter to dispel them. The mountain of snakes writhed and shuddered. Almost instantly, they wriggled and slithered through holes and cracks in a mass exodus. Some of them wriggled over their boots and Malfoy found himself pressing close to Potter in disgust, shaking his feet to hurry the creatures along. Potter chuckled, but thankfully made no comment.

When the chamber was empty of loathsome reptiles, Potter walked forwards. There were no exits from the room, but a few choice words in Parseltongue caused another section of wall to grate sideways.

Potter started to enter, but Draco shoved him aside and pushed his way into the space revealed with his lit wand held high. Potter followed, muttering.

The light revealed a large cavern with a small black pool in the center. Beyond the pool stood a jutting pillar of stone from which a niche had been cut. Resting in the recess was an object that curiously resembled an egg, although it was burnished silver in color and about the size of both of Draco's fists together.

He took a step forwards and cast his gaze into every shadow, alert for anything. There was an odd smell in the room and his instincts were screaming.

"Stay back, Potter," he murmured.

Draco took another step and instinctively ducked when something launched itself at him from the upper reaches of the chamber. A rush of wind lifted his hair and he felt the brief touch of smooth scales on his forehead as the creature passed over him.

What the hell was it? A winged snake?

The idea seemed to be negated as the thing twisted in midair and sank sharp claws into Draco's shoulder. He yelped in surprise and cast _Avada Kedavra_ at the thing, which released him and flapped away with a squawking hiss.

Great, a magic-resistant giant flying snake with claws. _Occamy_ , he thought suddenly, recalling the name of the creature… but they were not usually resistant to magic. Which meant Voldemort had altered it. They were not normally venomous, either, but Draco could not count on that.

The creature attacked again and Draco slammed it into a wall with a sharp blast of force. It recovered with lightning swiftness and flew at him. Draco sidestepped at the cost of a slashed cheek. Bloody hell, the thing was quick! Draco followed the beast with several deadly spells that bounced off the scaled body. One of them nearly hit Potter, who skirted the edge of the pond, heading for the egg.

"Damn it, Potter! Can't you wait until I finish this?"

"No… you don't seem to be doing that well."

"Thanks for the bloody vote of confidence!" Draco yelled as the creature swooped down on Potter. Draco's hastily shot spell deflected the Occamy enough that the claws missed Potter's head. Barely. "Damn it, Potter, can you at least _duck_?"

"No problem," Potter replied and dove forwards. He reached the base of the pillar and sought for handholds. His proximity to the egg seemed to enrage the Occamy, who dove at him again.

"Bloody, stupid, reckless Gryffindor…" Draco muttered and plunged into the water, shooting hex after hex at the reptile. The creature's fangs narrowly missed Potter's head; but at least he'd learned to duck. Draco's spells finally seemed to irritate the Occamy and it launched itself in his direction—too fast! The claws tore into Draco's midsection and bore him down. The pond was shallow—barely knee-deep, but Draco's head went under water. He held his breath and fought to push the monster away, but it actually lifted him from the water and bore him into the air. He felt  claws tearing at his flesh with the movement.

Draco tried another Killing Curse while jabbing the wand into the Occamy's open mouth when it tried to take a chunk out of his head. The spell seemed to jolt the creature and it dropped him. The world lurched for a moment, until Draco hit the ground and his breath left him in a painful whoosh. He struggled to pull air into his lungs, but could not even scream when he felt the claws tear into his back. In the next instant, fangs brutally drove into his neck. He felt blood spray across the side of his face--his own.

He summoned all of his strength to roll over. The talons tore free from his back and wings flapped for an instant. Draco gripped the creature's neck when it reared back for another strike. He forcefully shoved the wand down the Occamy's throat and cast one last _Avada Kedavra_. The creature seemed to radiate green from the inside out and then it lurched and fell over dead.

Draco sagged in sheer relief for a moment before he raised a hand and clamped down on his neck. Blood streamed from the wound at an alarming rate. He glanced over at Potter, who was hefting the egg. Potter looked over his shoulder at Draco.

"Malfoy! God, are you all right?"

Draco tried to reply, but a strange, peaceful darkness was slipping over him. Potter leaped into the water and splashed through the pond. The last thing Draco saw was Potter's worried face. Not a horrible sight, he thought, all things considered.


	10. Draco's Escort Service Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Harry was horrified at the amount of blood surrounding Malfoy. He had been shredded front and back by the monster's claw, but the neck wound was the worst. It bled profusely. Malfoy's hand fell away as he slipped into unconsciousness and Harry pressed his own hand over the gash to curtail the bleeding. He could attempt a healing, but by the time he managed it, Draco could be dead.

He glanced at the egg, which he had dropped next to Malfoy's head. There might be a chance… slim, but it was better than none. Keeping one hand clamped to Draco's wound; he lifted his wand and touched the Horcrux egg. During the war, he had learned through trial and error the best way to destroy a Horcrux. Even with his limited abilities, he felt he could manage it. The trick was to use finesse, rather than force. Thank God Hermione had figured that out.

He cast a seeking spell, looking for weaknesses in the protections surrounding the Horcrux. Malfoy's plight lent urgency to the task that he would not otherwise have felt. _Come on… where is it?_

Voldemort must have been in a hurry when he had created the Horcrux. Harry had nearly been killed destroying the Hufflepuff Cup due to the many protection spells that had been laced over and through it to guard the soul trapped inside. This one had several spells, but they seemed weak. Harry wormed his way beneath them, using his magic in a non-threatening fashion. They were set to guard the egg from destruction—not inquisitive intrusion.

Once inside, Harry sought for stress points in the object itself. In this case, it was an egg—which had been a bloody stupid move on Voldemort's part, even if it was half silver—so fracture lines were natural. Harry merely had to give them a slight nudge.

The Horcrux fell to pieces.

A howling wind sprang from the object and the howl quickly grew to a scream of purest rage. The wind swirled around Harry, picking up dust from the cavern and a spray of water from the pool and lashing them about Harry and Malfoy in a furious whirlwind. Such had happened before with other Horcruxes, but Harry was staggered by a force that plunged into his body and knocked him sprawling over Malfoy. He lost his grip on Malfoy's throat and struggled to move at all through the immense tingling sensation that filled his senses. He was blinded with a glare of white for a moment.  And then all was still.

Harry sat up, feeling oddly whole for the first time in… well, _forever_ , it seemed. Had his powers returned? He pressed his wand against Malfoy's wound and cast, feeling immense relief when the gash began to knit back together cleanly. Malfoy's breathing was still shallow and the pool of blood beneath him was alarming. Harry's brow wrinkled in consternation. There were simply too many wounds for him to heal.

He took a deep breath and reached down to lift Malfoy. He braced Malfoy's head against his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him before he centered himself and then cast another spell.

The whole room seemed to be enveloped in light for a moment. Harry was awash with sensations—he seemed to hear the sound of chimes and smelled the clean, heady scent of a sea breeze. Power throbbed through his veins. Light and warmth flowed into and through him and he channeled it into Malfoy, willing him to heal.

After a long while, the light dimmed and Harry found himself returning to normal—the impression of sound and scent died and the immense flow of power ebbed and faded. He looked down and then tore open Malfoy's already shredded shirt—to find his flesh smooth and unmarred. Harry crushed him close in thankful relief.

Malfoy's voice suddenly rumbled against his chest. "I know you want me, Potter, but this is a terrible place to make love."

Harry felt himself laugh aloud. He released Malfoy slightly—enough to pull back and look into his handsome face.

"How did you do that?"

"The same way I killed Voldemort—only in reverse," Harry admitted.

"Did you lose your powers this time?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I think I'm back to normal and Voldemort is finally gone for good."

"Pity. I… rather enjoyed… taking care of you."

Harry smiled in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yes." Malfoy grinned wickedly. "You do realize you're holding me in an extremely affectionate manner?"

Harry flushed, but it did not seem to be the wrong thing to do at all. He lifted a hand to wipe the blood away from Malfoy's healed cheek in a gentle caress, and then slid the hand up to brush the ultra-fine hair back from Malfoy's brow.

"Yeah, I realize that."

Harry bent down and kissed him. A small sound of surprise escaped Malfoy before his hand slipped up to caress Harry's neck. Harry deepened the kiss, marveling that Malfoy could feel so damned good, and that kissing him seemed like the most normal thing in the world.

A long while later, they pulled apart. Both were breathing hard. They gazed at each other in mutual amazement.

"So, what happens now, Potter?"

"Well, first we need to find a softer place than this damned rocky cave," Harry suggested and then he laughed in astonishment. "Are you _blushing_? Draco Malfoy?"

"Certainly not. I meant _after_ that."

Harry felt himself growing warm at the comment, but it was a nice, tingly sort of warm. He smiled. "I was wondering if you might want a partner. For your escort service."

"You mean… you and me? Together all the time? Day and night?" Malfoy sounded surprised.

"Yeah. Day and night."

Malfoy chuckled. "I can live with that." He climbed to his feet and held a hand out to Harry, who took it. Malfoy helped him stand and they started out. "Of course, you'll have to learn to take orders. It's appalling the way you don't listen."

"Wait, I said partner, not minion," Harry protested.

"Partner. Minion. What's the difference?"

"There's a huge difference!"

"Maybe to Gryffindors."

Still arguing, they left the dark chamber behind.

~end ... until the next part~


End file.
